Omar answered, "This substance is being Undecylenic Acid."
Evan seized the moment and suggested to Omar and the press, "No doubt a powerful weapon for use against hostiles such as Proto-Masses and Crawling Tube Worms!"
Omar corrected, "Actually, undecylenic acid is an ingredient in anti-fungal applications."
Evan’s smile faded a hair.
Hutch's eyes widened and he said, "Oh, yeah, like for athletes foot and jock itch."
"Well, I, um, see," Evan stumbled, but not very far.
With the demonstration complete, the half-dozen reporters shot questions from below the raised platform.
"Senator Godfrey, I see you’re touring this facility with Mr. Hutch. Does that mean you’re endorsing the idea of a laborer’s guild?"
Evan felt Hutch’s eyes and ears await his response.
"We are in a new world but there are some ideas from the old that are still applicable. I support Jim and his efforts to organize industrial workers, cargo handlers, and transportation drivers. I think the result will be a better work force and an improved quality of life."
Flash bulbs popped as Evan turned and shook Jim’s grateful hand.
Another question followed, "Senator, your colleagues appear ready to elect you President of the Senate later this week. How do you react to the news and do you worry that your position on the Emperor's advisory panel would then create a conflict of interest?"
Evan nodded as he heard the question, rubbed his chin as if contemplating deep thoughts, then responded, "First, let me say that I am honored my colleagues are considering me for President. Second, I believe my constituents know that my interests are never conflicted."
It is possible that those were the truest words Evan Godfrey ever spoke…
…Evan relaxed in his hotel room at the Atlanta Hilton and Towers, the only hotel in town operating in a manner even vaguely resembling the pre-Armageddon world. No maids, of course, and no sheets or swimming pool or bar. But he did have a penthouse view of Atlanta
The afternoon sun glittered through the windows while Godfrey hovered over a laptop computer putting the finishing touches on a speech he was to give at the train station that evening. It was all a part of his strategy to document every step in his journey from Washington, to New Winnabow, to Atlanta, and then back to Washington.
He billed it as a pilgrimage into the hearts and lives of the citizens of The Empire; a chance to show his credentials as a man of the people.
It kicked off with laying a wreath at the memorial in New Winnabow, then a show of gratitude to the garrison at Columbia, South Carolina. He spent three hours fishing off the coast of Savannah because fishermen deserved recognition for their work. On a farm he sheered sheep because people were cold up north that winter.
Then came Atlanta and Jim Hutch.
Godfrey saw Hutch as a disgusting, brute of a man. But that man was on the cutting edge of a new labor movement and, most likely, the cutting edge of the rebirth of organized crime.
The matter-maker had been a nice backdrop, the presence of Omar Nehru a means of impressing Hutch with Evan’s own connections; a reminder that he could build bridges.
Next he would go to the train station to recognize the challenges the railway workers faced; they had the third most dangerous civilian job in The Empire, you know.
"Ah, that’s it," a great line came to mind and he typed frantically on the keyboard but an interruption came in the form of a ringing phone.
He grumbled and answered, "This is Evan Godfrey."
"Is it really? Not the Evan Godfrey who has been all over the news. Did you know that on NBN you got more coverage than the Ohio front? Of course you know that."
The phone connection carried over a combination of hard lines and old cell towers but despite the static and distance, Evan recognized the voice.
"Hello, officer Roos. How are you this afternoon?"
Ray Roos, one of Dante Jones’ lieutenants in Internal Security and the top I.S. officer at the Imperial mansion. He had risen in the ranks without Trevor or Dante or anyone else realizing that Roos served as a conduit for information to Evan Godfrey. Information that had helped Evan make the right moves, the right decisions, and say the right words in advancing his interests.
If Ray took the time and hassle of making the necessary connections to reach Evan Godfrey in Atlanta it must be important. Evan listened close because Ray's words usually only framed the message.
"I am doing very well, thank you for asking, Senator. You’ll have to excuse the interruption. I figure you’ve got a lot to be doing down there."
Godfrey responded, "As a Senator it’s important that I stay visible. The people have to know that we’re getting things done."
Evan carried the phone over to the window. It was a nice day outside, even if overcast. The cityscape of Atlanta presented a mixture of human buildings and the remains of Hivvan structures. Even after more than a year, workers still demolished the walls, slave pens, and gun emplacements left behind by those invading lizards. Like all worthy projects, sanitizing Atlanta took time. Evan could appreciate that: time and patience to tear down the old and build the new.
Ray continued, "It’s all over the news that you’re going to be elected President of the Senate. Wow, that is something else, Mr. Godfrey. A pretty big achievement for you."
"Well, let’s not count our chickens, Ray."
"Oh, now, you know me, Mr. Godfrey. I usually don’t go counting those chickens until they’re hatched. That way you don’t end up with egg on your face, don’t you think?"
"Very true. Very true indeed."
"But Senator, it just really seems like this whole President-elect thing is going to happen. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say it’s in the bag. Still, I’m willing to wait for the election before I start sending my congratulations."
"I can appreciate that."
"Yes, Sir, being President of the Senate, that would be a heck of an accomplishment. So big, you would expect that as soon as they voted you in you should expect a phone call—sorta like this one—a phone call of congratulations from the Emperor himself, wouldn’t you think?"
Evan played the game, regardless of how it grated on him. For some reason, Ray Roos seemed to be the one man he had met who could see clearly through his political double speak. The one man capable of out-maneuvering him. Thankfully, Ray stood in his corner.
"Yes. I suppose I should expect a call of congratulations from the Emperor, should I be elected President of the Senate."
"Yep. I’d think so. Why, I can’t think of a good reason why the Emperor wouldn’t jump on that phone right away and give you a call to offer up a nice attaboy. Could you think of a good reason, Mr. Godfrey? I mean, is there any reason at all as to why the Emperor might not go calling you—or might not be able to call you--on your big day?"
Evan stood in his hotel room and gazed out the window.
"No, Ray, I can’t think of a good reason at all."
9. Train Ride
The old freight train station on Main Street in Washington Court House had long ago been converted into a live-stock feed factory. As was the case so often, Armageddon made something old new again.
Engineers had re-converted the one-story wooden building back into a train station with relative ease; the platforms and ramps were in good condition and CSX had operated on the accompanying tracks up until the day the world went away.
General Jerry Shepherd hoisted a soft travel bag over his shoulder and walked across the puddle-covered parking lot. He heard the rough idle of supply trucks anticipating cargo and the distant hiss of a steam engine waiting for passengers.
In contrast to most of his travel, a squad of security did not escort the General due to his presence in Ohio being a secret. He did not mind, however. Shepherd did not like the royal treatment. The more time he spent on the frontier of this new, untamed America the more he craved a sense of individuality and even a touch of adventure. No doubt that craving cont
ributed to the rash rescue attempt.
I think I'm turning in to a cowboy, he admitted to himself.
A high pressure system had moved over central Ohio and the temperature rose to forty degrees, the highest since early December but winter managed to maintain its grip by sending a mix of sleet and rain from an absolutely gloomy sky.
In fact, 'gloomy' described the entire scene outside the station; rain over everything, the waterfall-like rush pouring off the station’s slanted roof, desolate trees in the distance that looked weary of winter. Everything lacked color, as if the sleet had washed away the reds and blues. Even the canvas green on the army trucks was torn and faded.
He worked his way between parked trucks, dodged a couple of moving ones, accepted the salute of two soldiers who noticed the stars on the collar of his BDUs, and passed two Bull Terriers sniffing for trouble before entering the building that smelled like a barn.
Shep paid forty "Continentals" for a one-way ticket to Wilkes-Barre (that price doubled in the last three weeks), then relaxed on a makeshift bench made of barrels and wooden planks.
His train idled outside and was scheduled to leave at 3 p.m., a half-hour ago. Those who traveled on The Empire's rails knew to add at least one full hour to any scheduled departure.
Shep tried to relax but could not. His concern for Trevor and sense of guilt over the botched mission would not allow it. He tried to divert his attention by people-watching.
He saw an elderly woman and a young boy walk hand-in-hand between the ticket counter and schedule postings. He did not need a sixth sense to know that the older woman was the caretaker of a soldier’s child.
Nearby, a middle aged man argued with an attendant over a schedule. Shep knew the man was not actually angry over a schedule. He was afraid; afraid for whomever it was he had come to visit at the camp.
He saw a group of adults and kids bustle in with carts full of luggage, and he saw a pregnant girl crying in a corner.
At last, a couple of familiar faces. Nina and Denise crossed the station and exited out onto the loading platform. He wanted to run to them, but first he had to prepare for questioning.
Like clockwork, Nina asked Shepherd about the year of her missing memories every six months. Each time he danced, dodged, and outright lied to keep his vow of never speaking of that relationship. He anticipated a need to dance yet again, but struggled to build a good defense. Exactly how could he explain to her that Trevor Stone—the Emperor—left behind his palace and body guards and grand plans to seek out little old Nina Forest?
Shepherd let loose a long sigh before grabbing his bag and strolling across the busy lobby and outside. A slanted roof covered most of the platform; the freezing rain fell in sheets from the lip of that roof. Some of the flood pitter-patted against the edge of the concrete landing.
He spotted Nina and Denise hovering at the far end of the crowded platform. Nina carried a duffel bag of personal gear and Denise a backpack. Odin—Nina’s faithful Norwegian Elkhound—sat near the two women.
The General walked alongside the train as he made his way toward them. That train consisted of an eclectic collection of cars starting with several 1930’s vintage coaches, a glimmering silver Amtrak diner, a couple of old mail cars, and even a red caboose. He spotted all manner of modifications to the couplings, the undercarriages, and the wheels of the cars. Like everything else in the new world, transportation worked by modifying leftovers.
A monster of a Mallet-type steam locomotive led the caravan, sitting and rumbling like a steel dragon waiting to take flight. Its coal tender proudly proclaimed "Norfolk and Western."
Denise spotted him first. She ran over and gave her 'Pop' a big hug.
He asked Nina, "How are you feeling?"
"I’m good. Especially since I’ve got two weeks back home. They’re transferring my unit to the south. Probably going to heat up down there soon."
"ALL ABOARD!"
The Conductor’s shout elicited a murmur of relief from the crowd followed by the sound of feet shuffling toward the coaches.
They boarded the musty old cars with Odin trotting along behind. Nina had spent the extra thirty Continentals on a sleeper car for the sake of Denise who was exhausted, even if she would not admit it. While Shep traveled to Wilkes-Barre, Nina and her daughter would remain on board all the way to Annapolis, meaning they would spend the night on the train.
Nina opened the door to the old-style sleeper and hustled Denise in. The window there looked out on the train station platform. Soon enough it would offer a view of rolling Ohio countryside, then Pennsylvania farmland, then mountains, and more.
Shepherd asked, "So what's your plan?"
Denise stared out at the masses queued on the landing. Streaks of snowy rain raced along the glass.
"First we’ll get settled. Then we’re going to the dining car. I’m starved and I don’t think Denise has had much more than hot chocolate in a couple of days."
"Some chow sounds right fine by me," Shepherd had not realized his hunger until she mentioned food.
"Then Denise is going nap. I think she’s had even less sleep than she’s had food."
"Sounds like you’ve got a pretty good plan lined up."
Nina faced him head on and, with the same friendly tone, said, "And after I get her tucked in, you and I are going to sit down and you’re going to tell me why the Emperor came all this way just to find me."
Nina left him standing at the doorway as she entered the compartment to stow her bag.
General Jerry Shepherd lost his appetite.
---
The rectangular Railscout's electronic motor whirred as it buzzed along the tracks on metal wheels with sensors and cameras measuring the landscape from a small dome on the center of its suitcase-sized frame.
Information transmitted miles back to its host engine affirmed that the tracks remained in good condition, the icy rain had stopped, and, so far, no sign of any threats from the woods, plains, or empty villages surrounding the railway.
---
Jerry Shepherd waited in the dining car, his heart thumped and sweat greased his brow.
How exactly am I going to get out of this one?
Nina approached along the aisle swaying side to side in abeyance of the wobbling car then sat across from him.
"You want a coffee?"
She ignored the gesture and started right off, "Why did Trevor Stone come to find me? I’m just one of a hundred thousand soldiers. There has to be hundreds of soldiers missing all over this war and he takes the time to go after me. Why?"
"I don’t like your tone there, Captain Forest. I think you need to remember who it is you’re talking to."
"Listen, don’t pull that with me, Shep. You’re not allowed to. You’ve never fallen back on rank before so you can't do it now. I won’t fall for it. I want answers."
He slowly sipped his mug of coffee. Another delaying tactic.
She was right, of course. He had never—never—pulled rank on her. To do so now only made him look more guilty. Instead, he grabbed for another tactic.
"My oh my, you sure got one bloated noggin' on those shoulders. Listen to you; ‘why did Trevor Stone come out here looking for me?’ Do you hear yourself?"
"So, what? He came out looking for Odin?"
Shepherd almost laughed because Nina did not know that Odin had originally been Trevor’s personal pet. He wondered how intense her questions would become if she found out that little nugget of information.
"Now you listen to me, because I’m a right bit tired of getting interrogated every six months by you. The Emperor came to Ohio to surprise the troops. I came along because I heard you had gone missing and I wanted to find you. Maybe you don’t recall, but there was a time way back in the beginning when there weren’t many people other than Trev, Brewer, Johnny, and yeah, Nina Forest. So when I told Trevor I was going looking for you, he decided to take charge of the whole thing himself. You ask me, I think he was just tired of sitting behin
d a desk."
He then nonchalantly sipped his coffee. To his surprise, he saw her eyes waver. Hitting at her ego—or suggesting her ego got the better of her—helped. She seemed off-balance. Unsure whether to proceed.
"General Shepherd?" The interruption came from the Conductor, a man who appeared to have lost all color in his cheeks and spoke through trembling lips. "I’m sorry, Sir, but I heard you were on board and, well, we have a problem, Sir."
Several Internal Security agents wearing plain cloths but identified by I.S. armbands hurried through the car on their way forward.
"What is it?"
"Could you come up to the security car? We could use your help…"
…The Railscout slowed forward momentum allowing the steam engine to catch up. The cow-catcher at the front of the locomotive opened and the Railscout fit perfectly inside a compartment there with a metallic clang.
In the armor-plated security car, a sharp buzz from a table top of electronic controls signaled the I.S. Onboard Chief Officer (O.C.O) that the surveillance drone was secure.
Shep and Nina stood behind the O.C.O. seated at the console as he replayed a video image for the third time and said, "I was hoping you people could tell me what that is."
The grainy image played on a malfunctioning monitor, I.S. never received the best equipment and train security occupied a lower rung on the totem pole. Nonetheless, the image displayed a house-sized mound of flesh with a big ugly mouth straddling a road fifty yards off the tracks.
Two creepy, flat eyes moved—drifting up, down, and side to side like flotsam atop a pond—on pale, slimy skin.
General Shepherd ran a hand over his eyes as he told the O.C.O. as well as the assembled security force, "Hostile Number one-five-seven. It only gets a number because no one has figured out a polite enough name for it."
"It looks like it’s just sitting there," the Chief observed. "No arms or legs. Maybe it can’t reach the tracks."
Nina scoffed, "Keep telling yourself that."
"Then we should stop? We have to hit the brakes now if we’re going to stop before we get to it."
Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels Page 11
